


Don't Forget

by Soft_Smol_Pupper



Category: Original Work
Genre: Anxiety, Domestic, Dwarves, F/F, Fantasy, Lesbian Character, Owenport, Paranoia, Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder - PTSD, Self-Doubt, Supportive Girlfriend
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-07-28
Updated: 2020-07-28
Packaged: 2021-03-06 01:35:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,274
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25575175
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Soft_Smol_Pupper/pseuds/Soft_Smol_Pupper
Summary: A young woman named Dara has trouble trusting herself to remember simple things. Her self-doubt rears its head during a simple errand.
Kudos: 4





	Don't Forget

The sound of wood against wood clacked through the air in the small village of Owenport and echoed in the young Human woman's ears. The sun was dipping in the West, permitting the two children playing at knights in the street to cast ever-growing shadows. She gave the children a wide birth, even taking care not to let the shadows of their wooden swords touch her feet. The dirt road would make soft sounds under any boot, yet beneath her it was nearly inaudible.

 _Focus, Dara!_ The young woman thought to herself. _Remember. She needs six. It is six right? It is. I'm positive. ... Almost._ Her eyes wandered downward to her left hand, clutching tight to the handle of a whicker basket. _No! Don't look! It's six. You don't need to look. Not again. It's six. Not seven. Not five. Six._ Dara took a moment to breath in the salty air from the East. Focusing on the scent of the salt helped calm her ... usually ... sometimes ... when she didn't have a task to complete. She shifted the basket to her other hand and looked at her left palm. Written in charcoal, the number six was clear in her hand. _See? It's six. You were worried over nothing._

At that moment her thoughts were interrupted by a loud wooden crack. Dara let out a brief noise of distress that she quickly smothered, forcing herself to be silent. She went stiff. Her heart raced. Her mind darted from one panicked, incomplete thought to the next until she heard one of the children whine. She turned her head to see. They'd broken one of their toy swords. Her gaze lingered a while longer until she was absolutely certain of what she'd heard. Finally, she let out a sigh of relief and started moving again.

Her nerves were a bit rattled, but her thoughts turned back to her errand. _It's six ... right?_ She turned her palm and looked again, as she would three more times before she arrived at her destination. With the basket shifted to her other hand, she'd lost her attempt at deterring herself from checking her palm.

"Good evening, Dara." An elderly Dwarf woman had called out to her. She stood behind a wooden stall with what remained of the day's produce on it. But what Dara had come for was kept in the shade beneath the stall. "Out on an errand, are we?"

"That's right, Marren." Dara answered. "I'd like to buy-" She paused. _It's six right?_ She looked at her palm again. It was six. But her mind began to show her the potential mishaps that could take place on the way home. She thought she may need extras. Or perhaps she'd even written the wrong number in the first place. "I'd like a dozen eggs please." She finally finished, shaking six copper coins into her hand from her small cotton pouch. _That should be enough to cover any screwups ... right?_

"My, my! Someone's planning to eat well tonight!" Marren counted out the six coppers, then reached under the counter and began loading eggs into Dara's basket. "And I'll give you an extra one free of charge." She gently set a thirteenth egg into Dara's basket.

"O-oh!? Um, thank you! Very much!" Dara looked at the basket, counting them herself in her head. Thirteen. That was even safer than twelve. She lifted the basket from the counter and held it carefully, the way one might hold an infant.

"My pleasure, Dara. Please give my regards to my niece when you see her." The vendor smiled at Dara pleasantly.

"Of course." Dara promised. She smiled back, though hers was nervous and stressed. She was comfortable around Marren, but now she had twice as much worrying her. _Don't forget._ She thought to herself. Dara exchanged her goodbyes with Marren and left toward her home.

The sound of wood against wood filled the air again. It seemed one of the children had found a stick that served well enough as a mace. She looked into her basket and counted her eggs. _Thirteen._ She counted again to make sure she had it right. She did. _Good. There really are thirteen of them. And don't forget Marren's regards._ She reminded herself. She counted out the eggs two more times before reaching her home.

Dara unlocked the wooden door to her little house and let herself in, locking it again behind her. "I'm home!" She called out. She lingered by the door a moment before turning around to check the lock. She turned the key to unlock and then lock it again, just to be certain.

A young Dwarf woman came swiftly from the kitchen. "Welcome home, dear!" She reached Dara just as she had set the basket down on the dining table, wrapping her arms around the taller woman's waist in a loving embrace.

"Thank you, Aral!" Dara responded. As soon as Aral's grip loosened, she bent down to kiss the woman she loved. "I brought the eggs. I ... I wrote it down, but I wasn't sure I wrote the right number. I hope I got enough?"

Aral looked at the basket and smiled sadly. "You brought plenty, dear. I only needed six."

"I wrote six but ... I wanted to be sure I had it right. ... I'm sorry."

Her partner turned and hugged her. "Don't be sorry, my love. We've got more food than we needed. That's a good thing. Better than less at any rate. I can make a larger dinner, and I'll figure out some breakfast for the others tomorrow."

Dara smiled, but she felt a little disheartened. She'd remembered right, but she got too much anyway. She always remembered right. And she always got too much. "Sometimes ... I think you should tell me to get less than you need. I ... I always get too much anyway so ... that way it would be just right?"

Aral shook her head. "Never."

"But-"

Aral held up a finger to show she wasn't finished. "You always remember correctly. One day you're going to trust that memory, and I want you to be proud when you see you were right. I'm not gonna take that away from you by playing mind games with the woman I love."

Dara smiled hopefully as her eyes started to glisten. "You ... you really think I'll ... that I'll know when I have it right?"

Aral nodded, holding Dara tenderly. "I know you will. You're getting better. Maybe you haven't noticed, but I have."

Dara looked at her curiously, not yet ready to leave her arms.

"You used to wake up in the middle of the night to check the lock on the door. When we met, it was several times a night. A few months ago it was once a night. This month you haven't done it at all."

Dara paused. She hadn't noticed that she'd stopped doing that. She'd been sleeping soundly, undisturbed by her paranoia. "I ... I still second guess myself when I come in though ... and when I leave."

"I know, sweety." Aral stroked her back gently. "But you're doing that less too now. I've noticed."

Dara felt at peace and let herself sink into Aral's arms. She was ready to relax. Almost. "Oh!" She recalled her second errand. "Marren sent her regards." She couldn't let herself forget that. "And she gave us an extra egg for free."

Aral smiled. "That's wonderful, Dara. I'll be sure to thank her the next time I see her."

Dara smiled too. She wasn't sure she'd trust her memory yet. But she thought she might take that chance soon. She hoped she would, at the least.

**Author's Note:**

> This was very personal for me to write because it hits really close to home. After a traumatic event, I found myself constantly double-checking locks, going into the kitchen to make sure I hadn't left the stove on, running the same basic equations repeatedly to make sure I had the right answer. Paranoia and self-doubt suck to live with, and I'm fortunate enough that I'm getting a lot better than I used to be. To anyone who reads this story and finds it relatable, your probably doing a lot better than you give yourself credit for.


End file.
